Du Trägst Keine Liebe In Dir
by swans-a-melting
Summary: Post-India Sarah/Cora inspired by the lyrics of 'Du Trägst Keine Liebe In Dir' (You Carry no Love in You). My contribution to the corah christmas fic exchange!


**My contribution to the Corah Christmas fic exchange!**

* * *

It was odd how often Cora's thoughts turned to Miss O'Brien these days. The woman had gone to India almost a year ago, and she hadn't missed her particularly to begin with. Miss Braithwaite hadn't been much of a success, but after a while she'd settled quite nicely in with Miss Baxter, and things had been such a whirl she hadn't really even had a chance to think of O'Brien at all. So why was it that O'Brien was playing on her mind so much suddenly, and at the most unrelated of moments too – at the dinner table, or whilst taking a walk into the village, or whilst Baxter combed her hair out for the night?

Each recollection would be accompanied with a little jolt to her stomach, and Robert had even noticed the last time it had happened. Really, it was quite ridiculous. She should have better control over herself. All the same…the memories were not exactly unwelcome. Baxter was far more than adequate as a ladies maid - she was everything you could want really; skilled, pleasant, unobtrusive. It was _nice_ to have someone to just exchange idle pleasantries with, she'd lacked for conversation recently to be truthful, Mary was too busy juggling first her grief and then her suitors, and Edith, it seemed, didn't want to come near her any more.

Cora sighed. It was obvious that Edith was hiding something, that was plain enough to see from the way her eyes turned down, away from anyone who looked at her for longer than necessary, the way she worried at her lip when she thought no one was looking, but most obviously of all she'd clearly cooked something up with Rosamund, and Cora knew her sister in law well enough to tell when she was bursting with plans. It saddened Cora that her daughter couldn't tell her what was the matter. _I went very wrong somewhere with Edith, _she thought tiredly. _But what it was and what I can do now, I have no idea._

There was a knock on her door and she smiled as Baxter came in, one of her newly mended lacy petticoats folded carefully over one arm. "You rang, milady?" Baxter asked, though both women knew it was a redundant question. There was no reason Baxter would come to Cora if the Countess hadn't rung for her first.

"Yes, thank you, Baxter," Cora said softly. "Would you undress me please, I'm feeling rather tired." She felt tired so much recently. She felt faded. It was nice to have Robert back from America of course, but with the garden party long over and done with she hadn't really had anything to occupy herself with of late.

She must have given something out of her weariness in her body language as Baxter's hands lingered slightly longer on her shoulders, before quickly dusting rather awkwardly to her sides. "Are you alright, milady?" she asked cautiously. "Is there anything I can do?"

Cora shook her head. "Not really, Baxter, but thank you anyway," she said softly. "I'd just like to go to bed." Her stomach knotted slightly as she turned away, restraining herself from reaching out to pat the maids hand. Again, just more evidence as to how Baxter was good but no O'Brien. No matter how pleasant seeming Baxter was she hadn't worked for her for just over fifteen years and seen her through good times and through bad. She might have told O'Brien, and O'Brien would have listened in her own stalwart way, and everything would be as it should.

It was right that the world was changing, Cora wasn't stupid, she knew just how important it was that the world should evolve and move on, but it was at times like this when she wished it was still 1911, before all the trouble started, when her girls were all still alive and whole and not pining for lost lovers and husbands and dead. It was bizarre to think that Sybil was no longer with them sometimes, it often like she could still come back, with that same old sunny smile on her parted lips. Cora's mourning for Sybil felt so odd and contrived in hindsight, the way she had rejected Robert and the strange they had been brought back together.

Cora didn't regret their reunion of course, she had never liked conflict, and only once had she allowed her thoughts to stray onto what might have happened without Violet's intervention. They might have divorced, and then who knows where she'd be now? Certainly not sat with Baxter combing out her hair. She'd probably still be with O'Brien, back in America.

Lost as she was in her reverie, Cora hadn't paid too much attention to Baxter's work, and she moved from the plush chair to her feet almost in a dream, her mind still fixed on the ghosts that might have been, but was jerked back into reality by Baxter yanking her nightgown down over her head. The maid dropped to her knees and quietly reached up to undo the clasp that held up Cora's stockings. Baxter worked quickly - she wanted to get out of there was quickly as possible. There was something strange about Cora that night, she could tell it in her every motion, and it unsettled her.

Cora folded her long legs one over the other as she sat back down, allowing for Baxter to finish undressing her. When she was down to just her corset she rose to her feet, and Baxter's fingers were just worrying the stays at Cora's back when there was a sudden knock on the door. It was light and staccato, and Cora realised it was Rose. "Just a moment!" she called, motioning Baxter to quickly wrap her in her dressing gown. "I'm not going to turn Rose away," she explained, her voice low. "Or she'll just bother me for a lot longer than strictly necessary." Cora smiled at Baxter. "If you wouldn't mind waiting outside," she asked. "I'll call you back in when I'm ready."

"Yes, milady," Baxter said. "I'll let Lady Rose in on my way out, shall I?"

Cora nodded. "Thank you, Baxter." She watched the woman retreat, pulling the heavy door open, and Lady Rose MacClare burst through, shoving past the maid and thrusting a sheet of paper at Cora with hands slightly shaking in her excitement. "It's from mummy!" she exclaimed as Cora gingerly took the sheet, which was slightly crumpled where Rose had clutched at it. "She's coming back to England for my ball."

Cora looked up from the letter, her lips pursed. "That'll be nice, Rose," she said. "If she can watch your presentation at least." It was a while since they'd all heard from Susan. Cora couldn't pretend that she was fond of the woman, but she was willing to put up with the Marchioness for as long as possible if it meant that Susan and Rose began to greet each other on slightly better terms.

Rose sighed deeply, blowing out her cheeks in mock outrage. "Oh but Cousin Cora, it won't!" she said, clasping her hands before her in a beguiling fashion. "You know what she's like, she'll frown and moan and keep her beady eye on me the whole time we're down there." She paused for a moment to catch her breath, flicking her blonde frizz out of her eyes. "I – I'm not with Jack Ross anymore," she said, her tone softer. "But I just _know _I'll do something she'll say is inappropriate, without even realising it. Please, Cora. Write to her and beg her not to come!"

"I'll do nothing of the sort!" Cora knew that writing to Susan Flintshire would be futile even if she was willing to try, but she'd made a promise to Susan that she would speak kindly of her to her daughter, and Cora had never liked to back down on a promise. When she was a girl, one of the first things her father had taught her was that breaking a promise was one of the worst things she could do. All her life, Cora had tried to live by this. Admittedly, she was a talkative woman normally, and terrible at keeping secrets, but if she had promised to do something, really vowed, then she wouldn't walk out of it unless she had a very real cause to do so.

"I won't write to your mother and tell her not to, Rose, because I do not think it is right," Cora said seriously, leaning forward in her earnest. "I promised Susan that I'd speak favourably of her to you and – don't you think it's time that you tried to make it up to her, even a little bit?"

Rose looked a little sulky, but Cora could tell she was listening to her as she carried on. "I think it would be for the best if you made it up with one another," she said, feeling ridiculously diplomatic, almost laughing at the thought of what Rosamund would say if she could hear Cora defending Susan. "Your mother will come, with all her entourage I suppose and – oh." It felt for a moment like she had been struck by lightning and her hand flew to her mouth in shock as she realised the full implications of what this was going to mean.

It meant that Sarah O'Brien would be coming back to England again. And how strange that would be too.

It stated in Susan's letter that she would arrive in Yorkshire first, so that she would have time to acclimatise to being back on English soil before descending on the hustle and bustle, and that meant that Sarah would be staying at Downton for a short period of time. Cora cringed with embarrassment at the simple thought of it. Sarah, back in the servants quarters, back to riling Bates and kept entirely under Carson's thumb. There would be the added pressure of Baxter's presence too, but the idea of Sarah trapped in the petty confines of servitude suddenly seemed foreign and peculiar to Cora.

Cora thought of Sarah's quiet dignity, her unruffled manner, her way of speaking with its thick, lovely accent. She was a queen in a way, far more so than Cora had ever been! Cora couldn't bear to think of Sarah spending her days lacing Susan's corset in unforgiving heat, her face pinched and strained. When Susan returned, Cora would have to seek out Sarah O'Brien. Find out why she'd left her in the lurch, check that she was alright. As Cora's initial shock wore off, happiness bubbled up inside of her. She was going to be able to _see _Sarah again, to be able to maybe finally ask her what it was she'd done that was so terrible she couldn't face her to say goodbye.

###

Cora won over Rose in the end. It was inevitable that she should do so – she was older, in a higher position of power and a more skilful liar after nearly fifty two years on the planet, and once Cora set her heart on something, there was little anyone could do to deter her. Rose had sulked, but Cora was mostly ambivalent about it. Rose sulked whatever one did, and in Cora's opinion it was growing easier to just let her fester and do it anyway, so on the day Susan arrived, Rose had a face like thunder.

Cora, however, had things pressing on her mind that were slightly more important than Cousin Rose's bad mood. The family was lined up outside of the Abbey, as was their custom, and her stomach lurched as she saw the parade of cars roll up, lines of identical chauffeurs jumping out, helping out well dressed aristocrats – Shrimpy was there, Susan was there, and a trail of servants followed…but the ladies maid that came out after Susan wasn't Sarah, she was considerably younger, and even as Cora frantically searched for Sarah in the party she couldn't see her at all, and it was with a sickening realisation that it dawned on Cora that Sarah O'Brien just wasn't with them.

She staggered back slightly and Robert shot her a slightly confused look, but she brushed him aside, not wanting to have to deal with him now. He'd never understood what it was that his wife saw in her maid, and it was bizarre the way he was always so keen to dismiss her when he rarely encountered her. Still, he was curiously friendly with Bates, and maybe he'd fed Robert a load of nonsense about O'Brien's character. Whatever anyone said about her, Cora only ever defended her. No woman who cared for her in such a tender could be truly malicious.

None of this distracted Cora from her initial worry about where Sarah might be however, and she made up her mind to go see Susan at the soonest available opportunity and try to clear it up once and for all.

###

Cora had impatiently waited for a few hours to let Susan settle in before she went to see her. She might have waited longer in the usual circumstances, but this wasn't usual, because O'Brien wasn't with the woman, and Cora was desperate to know the truth. Susan was drinking tea in one of the guest rooms, and Cora knocked on the door slightly nervously, but she made sure she injected a note of confidence into her tread as she went in.

"Susan?" Robert's cousin turned towards Cora with the expression of distaste that played her features so often. Still, she was polite at least, and she inclined her head towards Cora slightly. Her hair really was a lot nicer than it used to be, and Cora knew perfectly well why. It was all she could do to stop herself from taking her handkerchief and twisting it into tense little knots in her hands. Really, nerves had never been a problem for her before, and they shouldn't be so now.

"Susan, where's Sa-Miss O'Brien?" Cora mentally kicked herself for almost letting the blunder with Sarah's Christian name slip out. When was it that she had begun to use her proper name in her head? It felt like such a long time since she went away. Susan looked momentarily confused, her lips pursed down into a little scowl. "Miss O'Brien?"

"Yes." Cora was aware that she was becoming a little desperate now, but why couldn't Susan just spit it out for goodness sake? It hadn't been Sarah that went round the back of the house with Susan's boxes after all, and that could've meant only one thing – that Sarah had left Susan Flintshire's employment, and Cora had had no idea why.

"Oh, Miss O'Brien!" Susan cried, her head nodding forward with the vehemence of the pronunciation of the words. "I suppose you want to know how she got on with me."

"Of course I do," Cora said softly. "I was very fond of her."

Susan raised an eyebrow.

"I-she was a good maid."

Susan's nostrils flared. "Quite. Well then, you'll be sorry to hear, Cora dear, that she no longer works for me. She hasn't for oh – maybe six months, I can't quite remember." So it was true, and as Cora'd feared – Sarah had gone and it felt quite likely Cora wouldn't see her again.

A lump had formed in Cora's mouth and she forced herself to swallow it down, only managing to choke out a single "why?" Sarah wouldn't leave without a good reason after all. _(Or perhaps she would. After all, you had no warning she was going to leave, did you?)_

"Oh, she was ill," Susan shrugged. "Fever swept the camp, and do you know, I am almost certain it was her that spread it among us in the first place! I do! I'd given her an afternoon off and she'd gone walking in all that disgusting heat (it really is disastrous for one's complexion, Cora dear), and she didn't get back 'til late that evening. I berated her of course and made her set to on doing my hair - we were entertaining the Maharajah and his wife that evening, so I had to look my best of course, and well, she just collapsed!" Susan spat it all out very quickly and then leaned back with her eyes widened as if to say 'well what do you think to all of that?!'

Cora couldn't react at first. "O'Brien – O'Brien collapsed?" she choked out, her mouth dry. "_Why?" _she let out a long breath. "Good Lord…" It was terrifying to think of Sarah O'Brien - strong, stalwart Sarah O'Brien falling ill. In all the time she'd known her Cora was sure she couldn't recollect even one day when Sarah hadn't been at her side. And collapsing too; Cora could just picture it, Susan, fussing and preening in the mirror and the heat pressing ever closer, and then Sarah, poor Sarah, just tumbling down behind her.

"What happened to her?" Cora asked tremulously. "Was she very unwell?"

Susan made a non-comitial sort of noise. "I don't rightly know," she said at last. "I was far too busy to pay her much attention whilst she was sick, and I didn't want to be infected with it. Typhoid of course. The servants were dropping like flies, but she recovered well enough. No harm done, I am sure."

She patted Cora's hand condescendingly, who writhed with frustration beside her. No lasting effects, she was sure was she? On her bad days Cora could feel the strains of Spanish flu even now. Nothing was ever the same after an illness like that, and it didn't sound like Susan had given a toss about Sarah's wellbeing. It wasn't fair, not after how diligent Sarah had been when Cora was sick. She deserved just as exemplary treatment.

Susan sipped at her cooling tea, her bottom teeth catching the glaze on the porcelain rim slightly. "Yes. O'Brien recovered alright but she just couldn't work in the heat after that, so we sent her home." Susan bared her teeth in a smile. "And that's all I know." She sipped again, and tossed the cup aside. It was too sweet as well as cold.

"Oh." Cora hesitated slightly, lost for a moment. "But she – you say you sent her home. Where is home, exactly?" Had Sarah gone back to her father's farm? It was obvious that she was never going to return to Downton, but if she couldn't be with her then Cora was glad that at least Sarah would be somewhere that made her at least marginally happy. Sarah had never been one to disclose much about her personal life, but sometimes she'd let something slip, and a certain look would come over her face that Cora never saw her wear except at times like that. It was an almost golden look, and her voice would soften as she spoke of the people and places she loved. She had many brothers, Cora knew, not to mention a small army of nieces and nephews, and a father that, from reading between the lines of Sarah's stilted conversations, worked harder on his farm than anyone should.

"Well, I suppose so," Susan said, "but I didn't really have a lot to do with it; it was mostly the business of the housekeeper."

Cora frowned. Surely the ladies maid was under the jurisdiction of the Lady herself? But who was she to question the way that Susan treated her maids – but she couldn't help but worry about Sarah. She'd had a lot of time to ponder things since she'd realised the true extent of her feelings for the Northerner, and as Susan bowed herself away, Cora decided she'd go see Sarah. She wasn't going to ask Susan for Sarah's father's address, lord knows the bloody woman probably wouldn't even have it, but Mrs Hughes would keep records of all staff past and present surely? It was worth a try anyway.

Cora was determined that she let O'Brien know the extent of her feelings. When was it Cora had realised she loved Sarah? A while ago. Long enough for them to feel ordinary anyway. They weren't mistress and maid any more, and there were many things Cora wanted to ask Sarah about besides.

###

"Mrs Hughes? Do you mind if I bother you for a moment?" Cora may have been the mistress of Downton, but that didn't mean that she didn't still feel slightly out of place in the housekeeper's sitting room, especially not when she'd come with a request as unusual as this one.

The housekeeper nodded, bidding Cora entrance, and she rose to er feet from behind her des, smoothing her work-calloused hands across her dark skirt. "What can I do for you, milady?"

"Well." Cora edged her way further into the room. "It's about Miss O'Brien?"

If Mrs Hughes was surprised, she did not show it. "Miss O'Brien? Indeed. And what can I do about her?"

"Well," Cora said, aware she was beginning to sound a little repetitious, "I wondered if you might have an address for her?" God knows what she'd do if she didn't, but someone in the house must have at least one detail for the bloody elusive woman! "I asked Lady Flintshire but she didn't have it with her…I thought you might have it on your records? Lady Flintshire said she's been ill and I wanted to – I wanted to send her a card of commiseration." She only hoped her excuse didn't sound too false.

"Very charitable," Mrs Hughes commented with a slight smirk, "but yes, I think I can oblige you." She sat down in her leather-backed chair, rummaging in the drawers below her desk. She pulled out the right looking creamy sheet, and held it out to Cora, who took it with slightly shaking hands. "That's O'Brien's fathers address," she said. "It's the only one we have, so I hope it's of some use to you."

"Oh, I think it should be," Cora said gratefully, tucking it into her pocket Sarah had never implied that she had property of her own, and it was highly unlikely that she would anyway; a life spent in service to others didn't give one much of an opportunity to make investments of their own.

Cora bid Mrs Hughes a good day and walked away with a spring in her step. There was hope at least. It was only just past two, she had time enough to go to the farm, she reasoned, and besides, now she had an indication of where she needed to be going, she couldn't wait to be off.

###

The journey did not take very long. They had to cross the boundary to Lancashire of course, and then find the farm, but it wasn't particularly taxing for the chauffeur, and he pulled up outside the farmhouse with a mildly triumphant air, as if to boast of his navigation skills which were clearly second to none. "The O'Brien farm, milady," he said, pulling the door open with a flourish. "I will just wait in the car."

Cora thanked him distractedly, slightly more interested in the butterflies that appeared to be bashing the walls of her stomach. She got across the yard surprisingly quickly, almost in a dream; indeed she was so full of heightened anticipation that she didn't watch where she was going and almost fell over a stray chicken.

She banged on the door, and it was pulled open almost immediately by a grey haired man in scruffy clothes that was presumably Mr O'Brien, and Cora went in immediately, introducing herself and what her business without much permeable. "So you see, it would be lovely if I could see Sarah," she finished. "I've greatly missed her, you do understand." She beamed at him. It didn't seem like Sarah was in the house but it was just as likely that she could have been out in the fields, or drawing water from some well.

"She's not 'ere, milady." Mr O'Brien's tone was sympathetic and he looked a little sheepish, after all, no one wants to tell a Countess that her wild goose chase into the depths of Lancashire was in the end, completely pointless. Cora's face visibly fell, and she sighed deeply, the air of the farmhouse feeling unusually thick all of a sudden. Mr O'Brien shot out a work calloused hand to steady her, guiding her into a wicker bottomed chair that prickled the undersides of Cora's thighs. His greying shirt sleeves slipped further down his arms a little as he helped her down.

"Would you like some water, yer ladyship? You've gone awfully pale if yer don't mind me sayin'." Cora nodded. "Mm, some water would be lovely, please." She met his slightly worried gaze with a small smile. "I just went dizzy for a moment."

It seemed to reassure him a little, and Cora watched quietly as he turned his back on her, filling a clean pitcher with water. There was a familiarity in his movements, as sort of ease, and it was obvious to Cora in that moment just what traits Sarah shared with her father. They both had the same frank blue eyes, the proud carriage, the austere good looks. He handed Cora the pitcher with a tiny smile, and again Cora could see Sarah there too, the way Sarah's lips curled minutely at the corners sometimes with hidden mirth.

She sipped her water carefully, breathing out as she drank as she attempted to clear her head. It had just been all so overwhelming for a moment. Susan had sent her off to god knows where, and now she was here and Sarah wasn't…would she ever reach Sarah in the end? She passed the empty cup back to Mr O'Brien who set it on the table behind him and began to shuffle slightly awkwardly on his feet as if he had something to say but wasn't quite sure about how to go about doing it.

"It – it were nice of you ter come and ask about Sarah, Lady Grantham," he said at last. "Especially since you're not even her employer anymore."

Cora frowned. "Yes, well," she began slowly. "She left me very suddenly. I had no due warning." She looked at Sarah's father desperately. She didn't know anything about what he knew about Sarah's departure – he probably thought she'd dismissed her or something! "I know it's none of my business really," she began again, trying to phrase her words slightly more eloquently than she had before, "but could you possibly tell me where Sarah is now?" Cora fixed Mr O'Brien with her most winning smile. "Then I can at least find out how she is. Lady Flintshire – her most recent employer – said she'd been ill."

The old man looked down at his feet. His boots were caked with mud and he groaned inwardly, dreading to think what the Countess thought of him, talking together whilst he was covered with muck from the farm! Still, she didn't really seem to have noticed, he thought. She was too busy gazing at him imploringly as she waited for news on Sarah. He snorted quietly to himself. He'd certainly never dreamt that he'd ever have a Countess hanging onto _his _words.

"Aye, she was ill alright," he said. "It were a right sorry business that, but still, she would insist on trekking off to India!" Mr O'Brien rolled his eyes affectionately. "She's not daft, our Sarah. Not daft at all, but _India!" _He spoke as if his daughter had visited the moon, not just a country slightly closer to the Equator than his was. "She came back all pale and drawn, but she didn't stay 'ere long." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Maybe she didn't want to stay because it's too close to all those memories." He paused for a moment, lost in contemplation. Cora said nothing. The clock wheezed into life and struck four.

"Well, she went to York and opened a shop!" Mr O'Brien burst suddenly, startling Cora a little as the reverie was broken.

"A shop?" Her accent sliced through the word like a knife into butter, the pitch rising as her curiosity peaked. "What kind of a shop?" Cora smiled properly for the first time since her arrival, her heart filling with pleasure as she imagined Sarah working independently and doing as she pleased. It seemed to suit her somehow, she'd always seemed to be the type of woman who was competent in all she did because she worked damned hard at it. Excellent maid as she had been, Sarah O'Brien had not been born to serve others.

"Dresses, milady, she opened a dress shop." Mr O'Brien's voice sounded happier too, and Cora could tell that he was proud of his daughter, wherever she was. "She makes gowns for ladies and such like." He beamed, almost winking conspiratorially at Cora but stopping himself just in time. "Maybe you could visit and have 'er make you something nice?"

"Mm." Cora's lips twisted upwards as she began to work out in her head what she would do when she got there. She'd go in, and maybe there'd be a shop girl assistant who'd ask her what she wanted, and then she'd lead her into the backroom where Sarah would be waiting, ready to take her measurements for some beautiful gown…or maybe Sarah would be in the front of the shop and she'd be waiting and ready, with – Cora suddenly caught sight of Mr O'Brien bent of the table, scrawling something down on a piece of paper, and the sight of ordinary tasks jolted her rather cruelly out of her fantasy.

She was being quite ridiculous! She was a fool to imagine that she'd have some kind of fairy tale reunion with the women, in fact it seemed all the more likely that Sarah might not even want to talk to her at all. It was Sarah who had made the decision to leave, she must have had some grievance with Cora she hadn't wanted to share, and by Christ, it must have been bad if it meant Sarah was left desiring Susan Flintshire's company more than Cora's!

Cora was about to turn away when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned round to face Mr O'Brien, who handed her the paper. "This is where she is now," he said fondly. "She lives above t'shop on 'er own."

"Thank you." Cora smiled genuinely. "This means a lot to me, Mr O'Brien," she said. "More than I can say."

"It's nowt," he said with a slight shrug. "Go and see 'er. I always thought she liked you more than she ever let on." Sarah'd spoken of the Countess with aggravation and admiration in equal measure, but Mr O'Brien knew his daughter well. It was as plain as the nose on his face that she liked the Countess more than she would ever say to him.

###

The journey to the address scribbled on the sheet by Mr O'Brien took longer than Cora expected. The car got stuck on various potholes, and she was quite jolted about as the dirt from the road began to coat the sides of the vehicle in a mucky brown, and the increasingly frustrated driver had to stop three times to ask if he was heading the right way.

It was easier once they finally reached York; Cora had visited it several times whilst out with her girls, and it was where the driver was originally from, so at least he had a rough idea of where they were going. Still, it was dark now, and it appeared that Sarah's establishment was not in the centre of the town at all, but off to the side, down an embankment, up another road, on and on and on…It was the wildest goose chase Cora had been on for sure, and she felt a consistent niggling feeling that when, and if, she finally arrived at her destination, Sarah wouldn't even be there. She hadn't been anywhere she'd looked so far, so Cora hoped to goodness that Sarah's father knew a little bit more what he was talking about.

Finally it seemed like they were on the right track. The chauffeur pulled up and parked outside a low little building on the end of a row of other similarly sized shops. There was one light burning dimly in a downstairs window, and Cora's breath caught in her throat slightly as she saw it. Sarah was in there in all probability. The chauffeur jumped down from his seat, rubbing his gloved hands together against the cold and helped Cora out the vehicle.

"Thank you Watkins," she said absently, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders as she began to navigate the path, all the while keeping an eye out for Sarah O'Brien.

###

In the end, it was Sarah who spotted Cora first. Sarah was leaning against the wall outside, even though it was bitterly cold, clutching an almost burnt out cigarette in her fingers. She could smoke wherever she liked now, but the last thing she wanted to happen was for her dresses and fabrics to pick up the smell. She found it comforting, personally, but there were many people that didn't, and most posh ladies came into that category.

It was cold, but Sarah welcomed it these days. India had been lovely to begin with, but the illness had really knocked her for six and now she couldn't get enough of frosty mornings and wind-blown nights. She'd almost welcome her chilly old room back at Downton again.

It was just dropping dusk when Cora arrived, and she'd actually just shut the shop up for the evening, thus she was slightly surprised when a car came rattling up outside. It was a fancy thing, like the sort Mr Branson used to drive, but at this point in time it looked anything but fine. God knows where the driver had had it, the wheels were caked with sludgy looking mud that was most concentrated around the hubs, and then filtered up to faint little dots that lightly peppered the windows.

Sarah frowned. She wasn't expecting any customers at this time of night, but the occupant obviously thought they were at the right place, for the driver jumped out, the brim of his dark green hat pulled low, and he swung the door open, taking a white gloved hand and helping someone out, someone that pulled their dress and coat closer to them against the wind that was all too familiar to Sarah, and for a moment her heart stopped still. Sarah'd know that silhouette anywhere, and it wasn't one she'd thought she'd see again.

Cora's frame and stance had not changed, her tread was still the same, she wearing the same burgundy and cream coat Sarah had helped her into lord knows how many times, and that large and hideous hat that her mother had sent over from America with the big brim heaped with waxy berries and leaves. It was hard to see her face in the half light, but Sarah was pretty sure that'd be exactly the same too. Just as tired, just a beautiful as ever.

Cora drew up to the establishment, her stomach twisted up in worrying little knots, and she paused for a moment with her hand on the blue door to Sarah's shop and flat, surely newly painted but looked faded in the darkness, sipping in the air at an attempt to calm herself down. _Breathe, Cora, _she admonished herself. _It's only O'Brien. _She was a society hostess! She'd entertained royalty once. So why was it that talking to a ladies-maid-turned-seamstress filled her with such apprehension? She frowned at her own absurdity, and knocked three times, sharply, on the door.

There was no answer, and Cora's spirits dropped. It was silly really for her to have expected O'Brien to be in and welcoming, but it was so down heartening to realise that her whole trip had been in vain. Cora had set her heart on their reunion so much. The disappointment was numbing, and she stepped back with a moan, suddenly inexplicably weary of the world. The driver was sat in the car still with the engine running, and she turned to rejoin him, there was no point staying out here if Sarah was away after all, when a sudden scuffle round the side of the building caught her attention and she stopped in her tracks, her breath misting up the air before her face.

Oh god. "Hello?" she called out warily, throwing a look back to the driver to let him know she was slightly on edge. "Is anyone there?"

Sarah sighed. Cora had obviously seen her now, and it was as good a time as any to reveal herself she supposed. Besides, if she didn't, and Cora came round to have to have a look and saw her anyway then she'd seem the biggest bloody fool the world had ever produced! Still clutching at her cigarette, partly for warmth and partly for comfort, she shuffled round the side of the building. "Good evenin' milady," she said quietly. Why Cora was here she had no idea, but Cora still had the upper hand socially, and it would do little good to simply demand a reason for her presence off the woman.

Not for the first time that day, Cora was stunned into silence and she merely gawped at Sarah for a minute, raking her eyes all over Sarah, taking in every inch of her appearance, and not a lot had was obvious that she'd been ill, and not so long ago, Susan and Mr O'Brien certainly hadn't been exaggerating on that score; Sarah had clearly lost weight and she was a great deal paler than Cora ever remembered, but she was still the same O'Brien.

"O'Brien," she breathed. "How nice it is to see you." What to say to her though? What could one say?

"And you milady," Sarah said, pulling awkwardly at her sleeve. "Erm…" she hesitated a moment. "What brings you here?"

Cora shrugged. "Oh, you know. Susan came back for a visit and you weren't with her – I was quite worried, especially when she told me how ill you'd been." Cora dropped her voice, embarrassed by her own words. "I – I missed you." She smiled sadly. That was it; she had opened her soul to Sarah and shown the younger woman what lay there. "You left me rather suddenly after all."

Sarah raised the cigarette to her lips, inhaling and exhaling long curls of blue smoke. There was no point in skirting round the facts, and what Cora said was true, she HAD left without due warning, but it had been for very valid reasons that she still wasn't sure she wanted to reveal to the Countess. "You could come in," she suggested. "It's cold out 'ere, not really the place to talk." She slipped the key out of her pocket and shoved her way into the house without really waiting to see if Cora was following her.

She was, and Cora felt a smile creep slowly across her face as she stepped across the thresh hold (forgetting all about the poor chauffeur left out in the car), and into Sarah's shop. "Oh, Sarah," she sighed. "It's quite lovely." In her excitement she forgot all about her using of Sarah's name, and Sarah frowned a little to hear her Christian name used so freely. She'd always been 'O'Brien', or 'Miss O'Brien' to her employer, and it was odd to hear it fall from Cora's tongue, but beautiful, the way Cora rolled the vowels.

Cora appeared momentarily flustered by her blunder, and she hastily moved to cover it up, stammering out an apology as her cheeks flamed, but she silenced herself just as quickly when Sarah began to interrupt. "Please milady, yer can just call me Sarah now," she said. "It's not as though you're still my employer." She smiled weakly, feeling stupider than she ever had in her life. She felt nothing like herself, the mere presence of Cora reducing her to nothingness. Judging from her appearance, Cora probably felt exactly the same, standing awkwardly in the door frame still, her expression torn between acute embarrassment and something that looked like genuine pleasure to be here.

"Call me Cora, then," the Countess replied. "That makes us equals then, doesn't it?" Cora's phrasing made the question appear rhetoric, and Sarah just nodded awkwardly, turning her back and placing a few more coals on the fire in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

"You've done well for yourself," Cora said, taking a seat in one of the two chair's Sarah had arranged beside the fireplace. "It's very nice here." It was more than nice, it was lovely. They were in a sort of sitting room which was furnished cosily, and an archway in one corner that Cora assumed led through to the shop, and a staircase that undoubtedly led to her bedroom. "Working for my Cousin didn't suit you, clearly."

There was a note of humour in Cora's voice, and Sarah permitted herself a tiny smirk as she took her seat in the other chair. "No, milady – Cora," she said. "Even if the situation had been different I don't think – I don't think I'd 'ave stayed for much longer." She shot Cora a look. "Far too hot."

Cora shuddered. "I can quite imagine. And all those animals and smells too – I don't really see that Lady Flintshire could have liked it very much either." One of the annual highlights of Cora's summers was standing with Rosamund watching Susan moan and groan underneath a large parasol. She had a tendency to freckle under the sun, and god forbid _that _should ever happen!

"No," Sarah agreed. "She spent most of her time indoors. We all did really, it was all a bit much." Everything had been a bit much with Susan Flintshire. Before she left for India she hadn't spent a lot of time with her at all to be honest, and by the end of the week long voyage in which the Marchioness had been violently sick, it became clearer to her why Miss Wilkins hadn't been particularly impressed by Susan, and the flicker of a thought that she'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.

She'd run away from Downton because things had become so unpleasant; Thomas was an enemy now, Bates knew her secret, Cora had been so unappreciative, and there Susan Flintshire had been, promising an adventure in a hot, far-flung land that was different to anything she'd ever known. It was obvious why she ran, but oh she regretted it now. Typhoid fever. Some adventure indeed.

Looking at Cora in the seat opposite, it was plain that the woman hadn't suffered much, but she could tell just from looking at her that she wasn't lying when she said she'd missed her. Her entire face was lit up from within with an expectant sort of glow, and it only then really hit her with a jolt that she'd been rather callous to just take off like a thief in the night.

"I – milady," she began, quickly stubbing out the cigarette she realised she was still holding, "there's somethin' I want to say."

"Of course." Cora's lips twitched slightly. "But I'm Cora to you now, remember."

Sarah rolled her eyes slightly. Cora may have got used to calling her maid 'Sarah', but the name 'Cora' still felt foreign on her tongue. "Yes, _Cora," _she said, slightly waspishly, but she quickly changed her tone to a slightly pleasanter one. She didn't want to get _frustrated _with Cora, she wanted to put things right, but all the same it reminded her slightly of why she left Cora in the first place.

Cora had not changed. She was beautiful still, so, so beautiful in that old familiar way that made Sarah's insides clench and her head ache, and she still dredged up all the old emotions of guilt and anger that she had begun to learn to brush away. Nothing could ever happen between the two of them, it was clear, even if by some miracle Cora reciprocated her feelings. There was too much bitterness on Sarah's part, and too much oblivion on Cora's. Cora had no idea of what Sarah had done, what she had tried to do and what she would continue to do. It was plain to Sarah that after this meeting, they could not meet again.

"I want to tell you why I left – Cora," she said slowly. "I don't know if I want to tell yer everything or if I even can, but I want ter try."

Cora frowned, her sense of panic mounting. "Oh," she said, trying to inject some light heartedness into the conversation. "That does sound rather serious!" She laughed rather nervously, terrified all of a sudden by what Sarah might say. She'd been a good mistress hadn't she? What could have possibly have happened between them that she was so unaware of that meant Sarah looked so sad behind her eyes.

"I did something terrible once, that haunts me to this day," Sarah said quickly. "I didn't mean fer it ter 'appen, but I was angry and I was scared." She paused. "I tried to atone fer it, but whatever I did never seemed to be enough. Then you were so distant, later on, and Lady Flintshire was so appreciative to begin with! And she asked me to go with her…the promise of India, of heat, of somewhere away from those bloody servants quarters…so I ran," Sarah pronounced in a great rush, looking quickly into Cora's stricken eyes. "I'm sorry now," Sarah said. "I was sorry almost the moment I left, and then there was nothing I could do. There are so many things I've done that I regret."

Sarah stopped and drew in a deep breath. Never in all her life had she told a soul so much about herself, and certainly not anything quite so personal as that. Working in service had required her to put up so many walls to protect herself, and now they were almost all stripped away. She might as well go the whole way. "I was the reason you miscarried in 1914," she said at last. "That was what I did. I lashed out and didn't tell you I knew the soap was there –I kicked it."

She heard Cora take in a sharp intake of breath. "Sarah," she croaked. "Is it true?" Cora felt winded, like the chauffeur had taken a car and rammed it into her torso, hard. She'd blamed herself for so long, admonishing her own clumsiness, and now she was being told that it wasn't her fault after all…instead it was the one woman she trusted most, besides Rosamund.

Sarah sighed. "It's true," she almost whispered. "But I didn't want yer to lose that child. All I wanted to happen was you to bruise, to humiliate yourself." Oh god, how terrible she must seem! "I wasn't thinking clearly."

She stopped, waiting for Cora to say something, but the American seemed to have been left momentarily speechless. Tears were visibly forming in Cora's huge blue eyes, and they fell silently, leaving glistening tracks on her pale cheeks.

"There's another thing," Sarah said. "That's even worse than that, in a way." She might as well do it, she might as well tell Cora the truth now. The reason she had been so angry in the first place, the reason why she had been so guilt ridden afterward.

"Worse?!" Cora laughed again, through her tears. "Dear God! But please, before you start telling me even more of this – I want you to know that despite what you've told me, I don't blame you for that miscarriage." She sniffed, dragging her hand indecorously across her nose, straightening up in her chair, steeling herself against the barrage of emotions battering her frame. "Maybe it's as you say, I don't know. But I should have checked. I should have looked where I was going. It could've happened anyway, and if I hadn't dropped it in the first place then it wouldn't have happened at all. So not only do I forgive you but I'm sorry too."

"You're sorry?"

"I must have done something for you to act in such a way," Cora said softly. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry." It was clear how much it was costing Sarah to tell her such things. She'd always been deeply private, and to tell her all this must have been such a wrench. "What was it you wanted to tell me that was supposedly worse?" Right now she felt unshockable. Sarah could tell her anything and she was sure she wouldn't be furious. For a start, that had never been her way, and secondly, judging from Sarah's mannerisms, the way she was hunched into herself, screamed of fear, and Cora didn't want to do anything that would increase it. She had realised she was in love with Sarah long before she came, that it was that had left Sarah branded on her memory so, and love was supposed to be kind and forgiving, in the end.

"Please, go ahead and tell me," she said. "You can't tease me with something like that and then not say."

Sarah nodded. "Well…ever since I first came to work for you, my feelings 'ave been quite – quite profound," she muttered. "It manifested itself in different ways but the extent of it was," (here she dropped her voice) "is – that I…I found myself in love with you."

She inhaled deeply. That was it; the deed was done, and she looked wildly around the room, at anywhere but Cora, terrified at what the American's reaction might be. She could hear nothing but the ticking of the clock and her own heart beating erratically, and in that moment she realised that her confession was really the biggest mistake she'd made, not leaving Cora for Susan or anything else for that matter.

There was a sudden cool hand on her cheek and she jerked her head in surprise, looking up into Cora's eyes which were level with her own. The Countess was kneeling on the floor, cupping Sarah's face with her long thin hands, her eyes filled with tears once again but her countenance was quite different. She almost looked…happy.

"Do you mean it?" Cora gasped, her lips parting into a smile. "You really love me?" Oh god, she felt the same, she felt the same, she felt the same! Sarah's pronouncement had been the last thing she'd expected, and it broke her heart to see Sarah nod so miserably, utterly unknowing of what Cora felt. "But Sarah," she whispered, rocking back onto her heels, "I-I love you too."

Sarah straightened up sharply, her fingers brushing her tears away as quickly as they had come. "You love me?" she asked disbelievingly. "But – how? I mean, you never…I never had a hint…" Christ. She had not expected this – Cora looked almost euphoric, yet she…in a way this was almost worse. Sarah knew she and Cora could never be together, not properly – she wasn't sure she had it in herself for a start, to bring back all the old feelings that would forever end up hurting her in the end. She had left Cora because the air was stifling and she'd just had to get away. "Cora," she began, but the American leant forward suddenly, sealing the distance between their lips with a kiss. Sarah kissed her back despite herself, clutching her closer to her, tugging uselessly at the buttons down Cora's back, moaning slightly as they fell backwards, pushing into the wall. Even with all the angst, she had always had physical desire too, and to have this old longing sated was both odd and pleasing - Cora's hand sliding under her skirt as she continued to kiss her mouth, her neck, her hair…Sarah responded hungrily, wondering distractedly where Cora had got so good at this. Perhaps more had been going on in her and Rosamund's card playing sessions than she'd thought. She twined her fingers into Cora's hair, allowing herself to tug gently at the pins, loosening the dark cascade of curls as she slowly sank to her knees in front of her.

"Sarah, darling," she heard Cora whisper. "I do love you so." Normally Sarah would have expected that that would only have encouraged her, and they'd come together, right there, on the floor, but there was something that made her hang back, and Cora looked up confusedly, climbing back to her feet and sinking her arms around Sarah's waist. Sarah looked nervous about something and Cora hugged her tighter, assuming Sarah's nerves stemmed from it being their first time more than anything else, but Sarah gently disentangled their arms and sat back down in her chair. Cora's heart fluttered.

"Darling what's wrong?" she asked, feeling more than slightly foolish stood there half dressed, her eyes full of worry. "I don't understand."

Sarah could see what it was Cora was worried about; she thought that it was something she'd done…_oh Cora! _She thought, _it's everything but! _"I – don't you realise that this can go nowhere?" she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You're married, you've got children, your duties to think of, and me – well, I'm nobody am I?" Cora opened her mouth to protest but Sarah cut her off. "No matter what you say, it's still so sour with me," she said. "That was why I left, probably, if you boiled it down to its sparsest facts in the end. It was so poisonous and it was suffocating me!" Cora was crying openly now, tears dripping down into her open mouth, but Sarah plunged on. Surely it was better for there to be pain now than to let it go on and for it to end in disaster?

"So I can't take this any further," Sarah said, her voice cracking. "It's not what I want, but it's what has to be. Can't you see that? For god's sake!" Sarah jumped to her feet. "I'm a mess around you, Cora, a bleedin' mess, and I hate it! You said it yourself, I'm doing well here, and it's better than Downton ever was. I don't want to hurt you, Cora," she said, one arm flinging out and clutching Cora's trembling fingers. "And that's why we have to part. I can't…I can't do love."

Cora scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous!" For god's sake, this couldn't fall to pieces now! She had been convinced for a long, glorious moment that everything was golden and that they could be together, at least in some small way. But apparently not.

"I just can't do it," Sarah said harshly. "Like I said, it can't end well. I'm too bitter and you're so dependent on me. Our separation now will be so much better in the long run."

"No it won't!" Cora insisted, slamming her hands down on the table sideboard. "You can't just string me along and then say that we can't – not you, of all people." Everything was crumbling. Such a long trip and all for nothing in the end anyway.

Sarah scowled. "I can't? But what were you going to do once tonight was done? You couldn't have just stayed here, and you wouldn't have. Your driver's still outside, although you seem t 'ave forgotten all about 'im!" Her accent became more and more pronounced as she spoke, her voice slurring in anger. Yet it wasn't Cora she was cross with really, more herself, for being such a bloody, stupid fool as to fall in love with a married Countess. When had Cora fallen in love with her, really? Did she really love her, or was she just a much better worker than whichever poor sod Cora had now? Sarah had been absolutely sure before she left, that Cora's feelings were not reciprocated in any way other than friendship and that never ending dependence.

"I want you to go, Cora," she said at last. "It's not right you being here, not really."

She had never seen Cora more exposed, more naked standing there with her bodice hanging loose and her hair waved around her face. Yes, Cora was beautiful. She always had been and she would continue to do so, no matter what her age was. But looks alone were not enough to keep them together. Certainly not in a healthy way.

Cora was crying as she attempted to gather both her dignity and her belongings, and she flinched away as Sarah drew closer, trying to help her fasten her bodice together at the back. The day had gone worse than she had possibly imagined. She had envisioned finding Sarah, reuniting, and then they would have come together and…well, what? It suddenly struck Cora that she had no idea, not properly. Maybe Sarah was right. Perhaps this was the best way after all.

She had been raised to be a woman of society and thus Cora knew all the tricks of the trade when it came to making herself look presentable when she felt anything but. She wouldn't let Sarah help her dress properly, choosing instead to carefully wrap her coat in such a way that the undone state wouldn't show.

She coughed, then turned to Sarah who stood resolute and without tears, the only hints to her sadness being the darkness of her eyes. "W-well goodbye, Sarah," she said stiffly. "I am so sorry that you feel you no longer need me." And with that she whirled out the door, almost running up the path, her emotions threatening to choke her, and it was all she could do to stop herself from collapsing there and then, as O'Brien had done in India all those months ago.

Sarah watched silently, heart thumping in her chest as Cora stumbled blindly into the car and Watkins began to slowly drive away. She watched for as long as she could, craning her neck as far as possible in every attempt to get a final glimpse of the woman she loved. When the headlights head well and truly disappeared, and it was quite clear that Cora had gone for good, Sarah allowed herself to slip soundlessly to the floor, wondering what in the name of all that was holy that she'd done. Maybe she'd lied to Cora. Now, it seemed far more likely that this was to be her biggest regret, not going to India or being a bitch with a bar of soap. How she'd ruined everything.

###

Life in the Abbey appeared rather pointless after that for Cora. The rest of the family couldn't understand her glooms, and it was made all the worse by having to spend the next few weeks ushering a discontented Rose around a city she'd seen too much of already.

But when she arrived back home, and flopped into a chaise longue with exhaustion, a package was delivered that contained a long and beautiful periwinkle dress that matched her eyes. It was cut low at the collar and long at the hem, peppered with delicate beading and embroidery. It fit Cora like a glove.

It arrived with no note, no indication of who it might have been that had sent it, but Cora recognised the style straight away. There was only one person who knew her measurements in such intricate detail, or who knew exactly what she liked from a gown, and they were sat in a little shop up in York.

Perhaps there was hope after all.


End file.
